Universe, time and everything (except perhaps tea)
by The Corpse Maker
Summary: It is largely believed that the Universe was created by a God who can't even prove His own existence. But what if the Universe was created by a depressive robot ? h2g2 fanfiction
1. Chapter 1 : The undoubted beginning

The Greatest Scientists in the Universe share the same thought about time.* _Time_, they say, _is an utterly inexplicable mess_. Which is true, but doesn't stop them from _trying_ to explain it, mostly because of the way people's brain work.

There are all sorts of brains around the Universe.

On planet Thatcher, for example, the members of the Churchill race (which, by an inexplicable coincidence**, has the same name as a british Prime Minister***), have the strangest sort of brain in the whole universe. It consists of a yellow liquid which tends to evaporate by the ears when exposed to high heat. The fact that the climate on Thatcher is essentially of the tropical type explains the early extinction of that race.

But what is shared by the brains of most of the species in the Universe is that incredible thirst for curiosity. The brain, in most of the cases, wants to stay busy. The brain needs to _think_. And so, those who don't try to ignore that thirst, inevitably end up trying to appease it by attempting to acquire a certain comprehension of all sorts of unexplainable things because only these things have the power to keep them thinking forever.

You cannot really switch off the thirst.

It is a common belief that turning on the television is one way of turning off your brain. It is of course completely wrong. What turning on the tv really does is turning off the pressure in your bladder until that well-known moment when the suspense in the film is at its apogee, so you can't possibly make your urge coincide with the advertisement and miss an important bit which no-one will explain to you during the advertisement because they are going to the lavatory and no-one will explain to you during the film either because it would make everyone miss some important bits.

Television is evil. All Great Scientists agree on that fact too.

So, they say, time is an utterly inexplicable mess.

In their neverending search for information about time, all these Great Scientists found only one certainty. This certainty is quite strange and inexplicable itself. It states that at the beginning of time is a robot.

Those who tried to explain that certainty eventually gave up and switched off their brain with a gulp of Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.

Every single one of them, except perhaps me. I will try to explain.

* * *

The robot was looking at the new-born Universe with great severity. Thing began to happen. Tiny things, big things, all the same. History, or rather Prehistory had just been brought to existence.

''So _this_ is time.'', the robot said. ''There's nothing exciting about it.''.

Many scientists would have disagreed this. But none did exist at these times.

* * *

* They also share the same taste for capital letters.

** Which doesn't stop anyone from trying to explain it.

*** Totally unknown to them.


	2. Chapter 2 : About the end of things

_The idea of death occured quite soon in the robot's head. _

_''Each living creature should have its last moment. A moment when it ceases to exist.'', he said. These two sentences could have raised yells of protest if anyone else had been able to understand them at that time. The decision was later regarded by many as a bad move. _

_On Sundays afternoon, an immortal being called Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged, regarded it as a quite attractive idea._

**About the end of things**

Many things end. It is quite often believed that in fact, _everything_ ends, but it has been proved by many High members of the Scientific Community that bad news never do. Bad news seem in fact to slip through most of the laws of nature.

For Arthur Dent, good moments always turned to end very soon.

As he was lying on the floor of a helping spaceship which had responded his sub-etha signal, dreaming about tea, Arthur was totally unaware of the gigantic spider approaching him. And gigantic really _means_ gigantic, here.

A good moment ended when a five-feet mandible gently hit his forehead and he opened his eyes.

The yell which came out of Arthur's throat was a perfect manifestation of his perfect comprehension of the laws of nature. Or at least, of his comprehension of those linked to this one : Spiders _do_ eat people if they (spiders) are _very_ big.

Being eaten by a very big spider is one way for people to end their life. And it is not a good one. That, Arthur understood well.

If Arthur knew that he could end that way, he was unaware of the fact that a robot he knew was responsible for both beginning and ending of _all_ things. Surprisingly enough, but for reasons which will later find an explanation, the robot in question was at those times as unaware of all that as the earthling.

Fortunately enough, Arthur survived the attack. Unfortunately enough, his relief didn't last long. But that is another story.

* * *

There once will had have must been a restaurant. This restaurant would was will be being set just before a big, big end. The end of the old chap itself : the Universe. Thanks to the ingenuity of the builders of this restaurant, this end, or gnaB giB, would not be (have been being to was having been) without witnesses. Most of them would be (were will have been to have would been) holding a glass of alcohol and would be (were will have been to have would been) smiling wildely.

And although the Dish of the Day was (has been to- ohZarquit!) a bit too talkative, it was (had been- Belgium !) quite a good restaurant.

Meals have endings too.

Zaphod Beeblebrox let his dessert half-finished and left Milliways before the end of the Universe occured. He was not in the mood for endings, this evening. He was, it seemed, in no mood at all.

He had been in deep conversation with the Dish of the Day. Well, in fact, the Dish had done most of the talking, to which Zaphod had responded by obscenities. The conversation had made him even more gloomy.

The reason why Zaphod Beeblebrox had been made gloomy in the first place is a simple one. The reason is that he could find absolutely no meaning to his life anymore.


	3. Chapter 3 : On the subject of meanings

This story has no purpose. It goes nowhere in particular, which is not surprising. If stories sometimes move people, they rarely move _themselves_.

The robot moved himself ponderousely on the surface of the planet. He had just created the _Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal in a moment of deep sadness. _

_ The reason why he was gloomy was quite simple. You see, he wasn't sure he was doing well. The creation of the Universe had not satisfied him the least. He was disappointed. But how could he be disappointed by what the Universe had became since it had been given no initial purpose. The Universe had no meaning had all, so why was the robot so disappointed? That, he didn't know. _

_**Concerning meanings**_

There once existed a book. The book was called The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Being very popular, the book was selling quite well and the idea soon came to many to surreptisiously publish ghost versions of this guide. These unofficial versions, if not as popular as the genuine one, sold quite well, especially in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, where a sixteen-year-old boy was responsible for the best ghost version of the Guide ever created.

This parallel and unofficial version of the Guide has this to say about the subject of meanings :

_Nothing in this Universe come to life carrying a meaning. Meanings are given by people. The idea of meaning is unnatural. So, if you wonder why things exist, if you wonder what purpose you serve in this infinite Universe, just shut your mouth and enjoy !_

This was rather meant as a joke than as a Universal truth. But these mere sentences were in fact closer to truth than the original Guide was. In fact, they were closer to it than every other version of any book would ever be.

* * *

When, years later, the author of this ghost version, landed on Earth and found himself facing the need of finding himself a name, memories of his past literary works came tickling his mind.  
_People_, he thought. _People can't stop themselves from giving meanings to things because they feel deeply disturbed by the fact that they could have none. Names are one of the things Earthlings will try to give meanings to. So, what name would be so obvious and simple, so stupidly meaningless that no one would ever try to make sense out of it ?_

The name was Ford Prefect and no one would ever question it.


	4. Chapter 4 : Concerning Zaphod

** Z**aphod's four eyes focused on the small piece of paper. Focusing was made really hard for him by the substancial quantity of Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster he had ingested earlier in the evening. As he was trying to read the words lying on the small piece of paper, his head started to hurt badly. The words, dancing before his eyes, seemed to be taunting him viciously.

Zaphod eventually gave up, swore bitterly, threw a resentful and alcoholic gaze at the evil dancing words, lit a match and burned the small piece of paper to ashes.

**T**he small piece of paper had been delivered to Zaphod at the door of the Heart-of-Gold twenty minutes earlier by a happy employee of the delivering service of the zone***** and had in fact been nothing else than a letter from a girl he had fallen in love with when he was in college (or at least, its betelgeusian equivalent) and had never had the luck to date. Losing that girl had made him lose the meaning of his life, and it had always been his greatest sorrow never to have gone out with her. The loss had let a deep wound in his soul.

The foresaid letter said that she had spent the last ten years trying to locate him because she had come to realize that she had fallen deeply in love with him. The letter also said that she was eager to have sex with him and that she would wait for him to join her. Her current address had been written at the bottom of the letter.

** T**he smoking remains of the letter were swallowed by the on-board Waste Management System.

The Heart-of-Gold took off and crossed half of the Galaxy. Then, it stopped.

* * *

''It is a deep relief to be given the opportunity to close for you, sir.'', the door said.

Zaphod tried very hard not to pay it any attention and made his way to the end of the corridor, where another door was waiting.

''It is my pleasure to – waitta-minut'-what-are-you-doin'-here-you-aren't-even-suppos'dbe-here'', the door said.

What Zaphod Beeblebrox had to say in return was ''Oh shut up !''. The sentence was accompanied by a kick at the bottom of the door.

''Are you sure about -''. Another kick hit the door and Zaphod shouted something obscene.

''But-'', went the door. _Kick _went Zaphod's foot.

The door slid open.

Behind the door was blinding darkness.

Zaphod sighed before he sank into the deeper depths of the Heart-of-Gold.

The door closed behind him with a disturbing ''Aaaaargh.''.

* * *

***** which employee the two-headed captain of the ship had profusely insulted for smiling at him with such an air of deep self-satisfaction.


	5. Chapter 5 : In all probability

_A widespread idea states that the Universe, being, by definition, infinite, it contains an infinite set of possibilities. _

_In fact, the Universe contains an infinite quantity of the same thing : dullness. _

_The rest, at least, is quite interesting._

**In all probability**

Imagine a Universe where only the most probable happens. A Universe from which the unexpected has been banished, or where it has in fact never been there in the first place. The dullest imaginable Universe.

This Universe exists. It holds in a room the size of a humble cabinetmaker's workshop.

The room is itself part of a huge spaceship called _The Heart-of-Gold_.

This is the room of the Probability Disdrive.

There is something the _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ doesn't mention about the Improbability Drive.

This is quite an important thing.

Allow me to explain.

In order to counterbalance the vast power of the improbability field and to maintain the ship moving correctly, you will need a perfect antithesis, a small Universe made of pure probability.

From the need of balance results the Probability Disdrive. It is as simple as that.

Because this Universe is likely to be far more dangerous than the Improbability Drive itself, it has been stored in a small room in the deeper depths of the ship.

And there in the room, a man was fumbling and complaining about the absence of any source of light.

''Za-'', said Zaphod, before being interrupted. What he had intended to say had been the word ''Zarquon'', but the Probability Disdrive had completed the sentence with : ''-phod Beeblebrox.''.

''It is me.'', said the man, an obvious hint of nonchalance in his voice. He kept on fumbling.

''_**Calculating**_ - It is indeed likely to be you.'', the Probability Disdrive said. ''_**Calculating -**_ What is unlikely is that you have entered this room. It is more probable that you aren't there._** - Calculating - **_''

This was it. The trouble had begun. But Zaphod said nothing.

''It is very improbable that you have been able to steal this ship. - _**Calculating**_ – It is in fact really improbable that your parents have been able to give birth to anyone.- _**Calculating**_-.''

As the voice was echoing on Zaphod's head, his body started to faint in the dark. He was starting not to exist at all. But he was still fumbling as best as he could manage.

''_**Conclusion**_ – Your existence is no-''. The Probability Disdrive's logorrhea was interrupted by Zaphod Beeblebrox shouting : ''Got YOU !'' and taking something in his hands. Then, he said this : ''It is in fact very unprobable that I don't exist, since I am already there.''.

The room remained silent for the next ten seconds, and then, the Probability Disdrive said : ''_**Reviewing way of thinking.**_'' and stopped talking for the next three centuries.

When Zaphod Beeblebrox opened the door again and got out of the room, he was considerably existing. He was also holding a bottle of Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.

He laughed.

''My last bottle. Knew I had put it somewhere safe.''.

The door closed behind Zaphod with a reassuring : ''Whheeeew!''.

Ten minutes later, the bottle found itself empty.


	6. Chapter 6 : Leading your life

For the sixtieth time in his life, Arthur Dent threw a disgusted gaze at the plastic cup of yellow-brown liquid on the table and tried very hard to picture it as a porcelain cup of Earl Grey. He failed.

He drank it anyway, trying to picture hot proper tea flowing inside his throat. And he inevitably failed.

Arthur left the plastic cup half-emptied on the table and then he left the room, firmly holding the sides of his dressing gown, deeply disappointed and irritated.

''Bastards!'', he said, to no one in particular.

He had been looking back on his life for the last two hours, and what he had seen was not enjoyable at all. He felt he had the right to complain. But to whom? If only he could find some after-sales service of the soul. No, there wasn't anything of that sort. He had been given a life he couldn't lead the way he wanted to and not even on the planet he wanted to, and he would have to keep coping with it without certainty and worse : without tea.

And so Arthur Dent shouted insults to no one in particular, although it wasn't perceived that way by a group of five beefy hitchhikers sitting alone in the huge cafeteria of the ship. As they raised their heads as one man, the word _bastards_ was still echoing in the room. Arthur saw them, sighed, grabbed his towel and started to run.

**The after-sales service of the soul**

The robot sighed. There were so many lives, now, and so many were unhappy with them. Vegetables, at least, never complained. He had never felt remorse for the vegetables. Neither had he felt relief for them. Vegetables had a life of their own, and never complained about it. But, if you thought about it, they never did much.

Vegetables _are_ important, but it is a mistake to think you can solve depression problems with beans.

People. People were the problem. _They _complained about their life. It is not that they didn't want any life (which problem would have been solved easily enough). No, what they wanted was completely different. They all wanted a _happy_ life.

The robot couldn't be called an expert in _happy_. In fact, he was even less than the clumsy apprentice_. _And so the problem remained.


	7. Chapter 7 : A pinch of soul

_The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has nothing to say on the subject of souls._

_But it has a lot to say on the subject of nightclubs. Take a look._

**The after-sales service of the soul**

**Part II**

The thought crossed Arthur's mind in a second. Not only did it cross his mind, but also did it turn back and hung on.

_Why ME?_

_''What have I done to God ?'' _had also crossed his mind, but had decided not to stay there for a long time.

Arthur had done nothing to God, and he knew it very well. But maybe, _maybe_, the fact that he had done nothing to God, including _actually believing in Him_, was the reason why He (God) seemed to be angry at him (Arthur).

_Surely it has nothing to do with God_, Arthur finally told himself.

_But why ME?_

Arthur threw a bleak gaze at the neverending desert which seemed to be all the planet had to offer.

At least, he had managed to leave the ship before he had been beaten to death. But he had nevertheless been beaten quite seriously. And he had escaped death only by being violently thrown out of the shipon the nearest planet by the staff for insulting people in a rough way.

Arthur buried his hands in the sand and closed his eyes.

The sand was hot. Very hot. The air was hot too.

_How could it be worse?_, Arthur couldn't refrain himself from thinking.

Usually, when he thought that, the Universe provided an answer in the most concrete of ways.

When he thought that, something happened. The worse happened.

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes.

There was nothing more to see.

He closed his eyes again.

Nothing happened.

Then, a voice rose from behind Arthur's back.

The voice said: ''Ohh God.''

The voice was very recognizable. The tone was a unique mix of gloominess and self-pity.

Arthur opened his eyes again and said: ''Marvin. If _Ohh God _actually _means_ that you are in contact with our Lord, would you please ask Him what the hell he's got against me?''.


	8. Chapter 8 : About alcohol

Zaphod Beeblebrox sat on the cold floor of the spaceship, whistling a half-forgotten betelgeusian song.

Space, as it could be seen through the windows of the Heart-Of-Gold, was particularly beautiful tonight. Shades of red and blue were hiding behind the shining stars, and all seemed to be burning with magnificence.

Zaphod, however, was not looking through the window. Neither was he burning with magnificence. What he was burning with was alcohol. Lots of alcohol. He had finally managed to make the beverages dispencer dispence actual alcohol, with proper ethanol in it. Nothing as good as Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, but well, you couldn't ask too much.

He finished his glass in a greedy gulp, which made him forget the other half of the song he had been whistling. For a moment, he kept on whistling in a reeling way and then his lips gave up the fight.

''Zarkdam lips.'', he swore. ''You are zarkdam useless when not stuck to bottlenecks.''.

And then he stuck them to bottlenecks. And while he was doing so, he didn't see the spaceship stop next to his.

And he didn't hear the door being forced.

And he didn't hear the footsteps either.

And he was stunned with a trucheon.

* * *

The first word Zaphod heard when he regained consciousness was: ''Hangover''.

''Hangover. Don't talk to me about hangovers.'', he managed to say.

He had a headache and that was not surprising at all. He was tied to a steel chair, on which he was sitting, and_ that_ was more surprising.

''Ha, you are awake!'', a cordial voice said. The voice belonged to a creature Zaphod was not able to see distinctly. There were other creatures he couldn't see beside the first one.

His vision progressively cleared and he finally saw the creatures. They were very ugly. Zaphod tried to blur his vision again, but failed. He decided that he would simply close his eyes.

And so he did.

''As I was just saying.'', the voice continued. ''You will be questioned, untied, and then you will be hanged over there.''.

Zaphod opened his eyes and looked at the said _over there_. It was not a pretty _over there_ at all. It was in fact quite a disturbing _over there_, with all that business with the sticky floor, the executioner and the gallows.

And so, he closed his eyes again.

At least, no one had talked about hangovers. It had only been about hanging people _over there_. People being him, here.

Zaphod opened his eyes again and said to the creature who had talked: ''Are you, by chance, the product of a delirium tremens?''.

The creature wasn't.

And so, Zaphod came to realize that he would probably die in no time, and without the relief of having consumed as much alcohol as to get properly sick in the head.


	9. Chapter 9 : What about some hope?

On the warm sand of a desert, a man and a robot were walking.

''Why?'', the robot said. ''Why do you need me to follow you?''

''Keeping you with me will provide me from going insane.'', the man said. And then, after a brief pause and a glance to the robot, he added: ''Supposedly.''.

''And if I happen to drive you mad, will you still need me to stay?'', the robot asked, a gloomy note of hope in his voice.

''Don't even think about it.'', the man said.

''Ah!'', the man added. ''There is a sign, over there! Let's see what it has to say.''.

The sign had this to say:

_This sign is five miles from the last one. If you've found these five miles boring, then you haven't seen the rest. _

Arthur (for the man was him) sighed a desperate sigh and patted Marvin's (for the robot was him) shoulder. Then, he dug a hole in the sand and sat in it, head in his hands.

He considered crying, and probably would have done so if a cup of Earl Grey hadn't suddenly appeared before his eyes.

The cup was later followed by a house. A very unimpressive, unexciting house. His own house.

* * *

As Zaphod was carried across the room, he got hold of his Kill-o-zap gun, which, after further investigation, turned out to be the result of a mix between hope and imagination. To summarize the idea, it didn't exist.

As the rope was put around his neck, he started to panic, just a bit, and he said, in a hurry: ''Wha-wha-what about the questioning? You said That I would be questioned. I have answered no question at all!''.

''Exactly. That's were the problem lies. You, by remaining silent, have shown us your lack of desire to cooperate. So, we find ourselves compelled to kill you.''.

''But you haven't even asked me anything!'', Zaphod protested. ''What about actually asking me something, lads? Don't you think it could work?''.

His questions remained unanswered.

The knot was tightened around his neck.

He searched his pockets again, hoping to find a Kill-o-zap. His hands tightened around the handle of a cup of tea. The translucent liquid flew along his thigh.

He collected a few drops in the palm of his hand and tried very hard to think of it as Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster as he licked it. He failed.

* * *

Arthur tried to reach the cup with his fingers, but it disapeared and was replaced by a Kill-o-zap gun.

He got up. A bottle of Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster hit the back of his head and he fell on the ground, unconscious.


	10. Chapter 10 : What if?

The man patted his trained humming-bird on the top of its head. ''Good boy'', he said.

The man was very old. And he was also quite impressive.

The long beard on his chin was of an immaculate whiteness. The bags under his eyes seemed to have been designed only to collect the purest of tears. His skull, made visible by a clear lack of hair, was of a most astonishing smoothness. And, surprisingly enough, if watched closely, the wrinkles on his face spelled out two words. The words engraved in his skin were: ''Don't'' and ''panic''.

''Errors fixed.'', the man said softly. ''Defective equipment replaced. Order restored. Costs: bruises on the neck and sand between the toes.''. And he closed his eyes.

* * *

The bottle had seemed to hit his head so violently that Arthur wouldn't have been surprised to find the words ''gargle'' abd ''blaster'' engraved in his skin when he woke up.

The pain in the back of his head had receded to the bottom of his back. ''Ouch'', went Arthur, as he was trying to get up.

* * *

''Aouch!'' went Zaphod Beeblebrox, as the knot was tightened a bit more around his neck.

And ''Aargh'', the leader of the evil creatures went, five seconds later, for he had been shot.

* * *

''Pfff'' went Marvin in a sad way. For he had been bored.

Zaphod looked at the smoking Kill-o-Zap gun in his right hand. Then he looked at the screaming leader and smiled in a cruel way. ''Cool.'', he said.

Arthur looked at the cup of tea that had just appeared in the sand.

He cupped his hands around it and smiled. Tears appeared at the corner of his eyes.

''Warm'', he whispered. He put his lips to the side of the cup.

And slowly, Arthur drank.

The smile that crossed his lips just after the first gulp had many things to say about Arthur's emotions.

Marvin had had to turn his head away from him to avoid the disgusting sight of pure happiness.

Arthur clung to his cup of tea with the ferocity of delight.

Zaphod, covered with dust and pride, emerged from the cave holding his Kill-o-Zap gun. There, before his eyes, a bottle of Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster was standing in the sand. Zaphod's smile widened as he got hold of the bottle.

And quickly, Zaphod drank.

''Hello, ape.'', said he, his bottle emptied from all liquid.

Arthur, ape descendant, didn't answer. But the smile told Zaphod everything that was to be known.

* * *

What was unknown of Arthur's smile was that – Oh, nevermind. You will come to learn that in the next chapter, so what's the point in telling you anyway? Let Arthur enjoy his tea before another catastrophic event happens...

... But what. What if nothing catastrophic ever happened again?...

That would be new, wouldn't it?


	11. Chapter 11 : Fixed

Arthur stopped drinking as soon as he heard the voice.

The voice didn't have the disgusting and ruthless tone of a Vogon. Nor did it have the calm and cheerful tone of Ford announcing bad news. It did certainly not have the gloomy tone of a depressed robot, and it most definitely did not have the desperate tone of Arthur stating the obvious when facing dangerous events.

Heart-warming was the tone. And _that_ was new.

Arthur rose his head.

There on the sand, an old man was standing. The voice belonged to him.

''Welcome to the after-sales service of the soul'', the man repeated.

Arthur's lower jaw seemed unexpectedly attracted by the end of his toes.

Zaphod's mouth rose from the bottle of Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster he was holding.

''What did the man just say?'', he asked Arthur in the most nonchalant of tones.

But Arthur did not answer the question. Instead, he started crying.

For Arthur had just been given something he had never had in years. He had been given the perspective of perhaps leading a less unhappy life. And for that, he was grateful.

Zaphod looked at the man more intensly, and dropped his bottle. It fell on the sand in a soft noise.

The manager of the after-sales service of the soul had a confused cough, and then he continued :

''According to the procedure, I have to warn you that your lives haven't been changed, but merely fixed. The repairs don't induce any additional costs, but they don't provide any further damage to happen.

I also have to warn you that your guarantees have now expired. Be careful.''.

And then, the man was gone.

By providing Arthur with tea and hope, by providing Zaphod with the perspective of an early death on the gallows and alcohol, the manager had indeed fixed their lives. And when the deserted planet had been gone too, Arthur and Ford found themselves both in the Heart-of-Gold, somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, and facing the decision of taking control of their lives once and for all. Which decision they took.

* * *

The robot sat alone in the sand of the now-even-more-deserted planet. He didn't even know why he had been brought here. Judging by the complete lack of joy in him, nothing had been fixed with him. If only his diodes had been replaced. But no, not even _that_. So_ why_? Why was he there?

And there, half-sank in the ground, the bottle of Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster stood. And the few milliliters of liquid remaining in it had flew along the sand, drawing two shapes in it. The shapes strangely reminded him of a number. And it was definitely not a coincidence that the number was _forty-two_.


	12. Chapter 12 : The way things work

_''All the Universe is a gigantic computer screen_

_And all the men and women are merely pixels.''_

_**,** **Holgan Vrooflux, technician**_

**The way things work**

The Universe didn't start with a Big Bang. It started with a tiny ''ziiid-dz''. The robot wasn't quite satisfied about the noise, but he was never satisfied about anything anyway.

It was said (or at least whispered) that somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, lived a man who had crossed the Universe and seen everything that was to be seen in it. It was of course, a lie.

The lie had been spread, and the one who had made it up called himself Ford Prefect, which name wasn't his but, he thought, suited him perfectly. There was something exotic about it. And exotic was good, for he had crossed the Universe, or so he said.

People gathered around him to hear stories of the exotic persuasion, to feast on his exotic aura.

If they had watched closely enough, they would have come to realize that there was nothing exotic about Ford's aura, for he had none. Real auras, he had understood early enough, are useless. You could make up auras at will, as long as you had a minimum of talent. And Ford had even more talent than that.

And Ford didn't lack a certain talent for gestures. He gestured a lot while telling stories, and it made them even more exciting.

''And there, you see'', he said, gesturing. ''There was that desert. Full of sand, it was, and full of nothing else than sand, except perhaps deadly desert animals.''.

* * *

Marvin buried his legs in the sand, his forefinger drawing numbers in it.


	13. Chapter 13 : How things don't work

**How things don't work**

Ford Prefect stopped speaking as soon as he saw the gigantic spaceship landing on the dry soil over there. And the crowd stopped listening to him as soon as a disgusting, loud voice echoed in all directions all around them. The voice said this: ''People, your attention please. This is Porstetnic Vogon Jelts of the Galactic Territory Council. This ground is now declared galactic public property by means of the law for the public use of the territory for touristic purposes. Please remove all forms of life within a radius of 0.0000000003 light years in order to make room for the renewing of this place and the building of touristic facilities. Responsibility in case of any kind of problem is declined by all institutions behind the decision. Thank you very much.''.

Two minutes later, Ford Prefect sighed, gave up trying to convert light years into betelgeusian kilometers, and, as some might say, sloped off.

* * *

''Bugger off!'', Arthur told the smelly rat climbing his leg. And, as the rat seemed unwilling to obey his injunction, he started shaking his leg in a movement well known by freemason samba dancers.

The rat fell on the ground and tried the other leg, for Arthur, as a bipedal ape-descendant, had two of them. And for the first time in his whole life, he was feeling quite unhappy with it.

He_ had_ tried. For God's sake he had tried _very hard_ to take control of his life. But apparently, God was not fond of Arthur's sake, for the man's goodwill had failed to avoid him ending up in trouble. ''Trouble'' meaning here ''dungeon''. The dungeon being in that case full of nasty rats.

Arthur now seemed to be performing a hysterical display of tap-dancing talents that he clearly didn't possess. The performance led five rats to fall on the ground. The rest of them had got the wonderful idea of sinking their teeth into his thighs to establish advanced stability. Arthur threw insults had the ceiling. The ceiling threw them back at him thanks to the laws of acoustics.


	14. Chapter 14 : Zaphod's soundtrack - 1

Zaphod's soundtrack.

Number One.

* * *

From Disaster Area's latest album

**''Bureaucratic Nightmare for the Galactic Traveler''**

**.**

**GARGLE-BLASTERED HONEYMOON**

We will walk under the light

of the two moons of Mars

And I know at your sight

I'll be relieved from my scars

In the middle of the night

No matter how bright the stars

I won't take a flight

to the distant bars

.

Baby I promise

I will never

visit Eroticon Six

again.

.

Oh Baby I promise

I will never

get pissed

again

.

But for one

GARGLE-BLASTERED HONEYMOON

Oh

GARGLE-BLASTERED HONEYMOON

Let us fall on the ground

Let us fade to the sound

of the holy name

of the glorious booze

And we won't take the blame

when to alcohol we lose

Gargle-BLASTERED honeymoon


	15. Chapter 15 : How things go wrong

To be awakened to the sound of the close screech of a green, filthy finger against a green, filthy inner ear is not something to be enthusiastic about. It is far from being an experience you would enjoy sharing with your guests during dinners. But, understandably enough, you would probably be keen to share _that_ rather than having to broach the subject of a following meeting with a naked Vogon.

Ford Prefect woke up at the hearing of the screech and his gaze fell on a rather disgusting piece of underwear. When he raised his head, he saw the Vogon. The Vogon was getting out of his morning bath. And he was, of course, naked.

The Vogon rose his head and his gaze met Ford's.

''Hello, sweetheart.'', the Vogon whispered softly.

* * *

Ford was then awakened by the alarm of his digital watch, which he had borrowed to years earlier to an ex-inhabitant of planet Earth called Arthur Dent, who happened to be, at the same time, dealing with a nasty bunch of cockroaches, which was _his_ current morning alarm.

With a gesture of relief, he wiped his sweaty front with the back of his sweaty hand and sat on his mattress. He sighed deeply, offering the dust covering the blankets a free trip across the bedroom to the very exotic country of wardrobe.

''Somebody make me forget _that_!'' he whispered to no one but himself.

It took the remains of his nightmarish visions ten minutes to start fading. Then, a Vogon entered the room, closed the door turned to see Ford and let his towel fall on the floor, exposing his naked body to the unlucky viewer. The dreadful visions came back galloping.

''What are you doing in my room?'', the Vogon shouted loudly.


	16. Chapter 16 : We've got a problem

There was a problem. Obviously. The problem was obvious like a wig in the soup. It was as outstanding as a fine metaphor in a vogon poem.

Arthur threw a deep gaze at the problem and sighed deeply.

''Well'', he said, solemnly. ''Go on. Eat me.''.

The problem remained silent like the crowd after a concert of Disaster Area.

''Don't worry, I won't find an escape. I won't even look for one. I am resigned to be eaten.''.

The problem grunted disapprovingly. The noise came from the deeper depths of the hairball.

Arthur made an attempt at offering the creature his left arm.

''Go on. Aren't you tempted? I'm flesh. Meat. Real, genuine, actual meat. Go on, beasty.''.

A hand emerged from the thick fur and closed the hatch.

''I won't eat you, you stupid brat.''.

Arthur shivered at the insult. It was the first insult to be thrown at him since months.

''You'', Arthur spluttered. ''You. You you can talk!''.

''Of course I can talk'', the hairball shouted. ''Two years in a cell haven't made me mute.''.

''You are... a prisoner?'', Arthur wondered. ''I thought they put you in here to get rid of me in a nasty way.''.

''What are you talking about, Earthman?'', hairy the prisoner said. ''Haven't you recognised me?''.

Arthur made an incredulous face, although it looked rather pathetic.

''Oh, come on.'', the creature said. ''Is it my new beard style? It's been growing a lot in two years, so I decided that I might try something new.''.

And, with a careful hand gesture, it pulled a heap of fur to reveal a face. Wrinkled was the face. And dirty too. But recognizable it was too. For the face belonged to Slartibartfast, the very wise fjords builder.

''Better?''.

Arthur nodded in astonishment.

''Good! Come, Earthman. There is no time to lose, for we have dark threats to run to.'', the old man said.

''Why don't we try running away from it, for once?''.

''Because it is everywhere outside. There is Death all around and above us'', Slartibartfast said, making the capital ''d'' audible.*

''Are you sure you don't want to eat me?'', Arthur asked faintly.

* * *

* It is a knack known by the wisest of all wise men.


	17. Chapter 17 : Hang around in wars

When they emerged from the depths of the prison ship, Arthur and Slartibartfast found their dusty faces bathed in the warm light of an explosion of substantial impact coming from a distance, which was quite a discouraging welcome.

''I fear that the war has already started. They just blew up the first ship, over there.'', the older of the two whispered.

The whisper worried Arthur Dent very much. He remained perfectly still.

''We will die. Die on the battlefield. That's really awful.'', Arthur stated.

''Not if you stay here doing nothing at all, Earthman. Come on!'', and the old man hustled Arthur after him. ''We need a glass of red wine and thin slices of peperroni.''.

Arthur's look brightened a bit.

''Well, _we _will not actually eat or drink anything, but the bistromatics will need fuel to travel at full speed towards danger.''.

* * *

''A war?'', Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz shouted angrily at the assembly of uneasy bureaucratic Vogons sitting around the table. ''And did you, by any chance, mention _diplomacy_? The vogon race, as you bloody well know, does not reckon diplomacy.''.

''Of course, my lord boss. But we _had_ to say it was the effect of a diplomatic incident, otherwise, they would have thought that we had threatened this planet on purpose.''.

''That's exactly what we did.'' Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz eructated. ''It is our job.''.

''Of course. But you know how things are, today, my lord. You can't wander everywhere and blew up planets because a group of eminent people have decided that it would be a convenient thing to do. Common people and national governments have freedom of expression. It's a shame, of course. It is especially shameful when the national governments in question are in possession of weapons of mass destruction and are ready to use them on vogon ships in order to protect their territory.''.

The sound of a distant detonation rose the heads of the vogon bureaucrats from their papers.

''I fear, sir and lord, that they have just gone beyond the state of readiness and decided to start the war.''.

* * *

A recent fake version of the_ Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy _has this to say on the subject of Vogon conflicts :

_Not to be confused with onion confit. _


	18. Chapter 18 : Escape

A very ugly grunt of annoyance emerged from the depths of the Vogon's sinuses. His nostrils trembled and Ford Prefect managed a retreat, until his head banged against the end of the bed. Massaging his painful skull, the galactic hitchhiker got up, gazing upon the ceiling.

Stealing a Vogon ship without checking if it still housed someone first and setting it on autopilot while he was having a restoring nap had been a bad idea, after all.

The good news was taht the Vogon sounded as ill-at-ease as angry, and Ford knew how to turn both feelings into allies. Sedately, he declared : ''Unlike you, Vogon, I never drop my towel.''.

And saying that, he got hold of the foresaid item that he always kept with him somewhere safe (As, in fact, the towel in itself provided safety) and, firmly holding it by one end, sent the other end covering the confused Vogon's field of vision. Taking advantage of the mess, he slipped between the Vogon's naked body and the side of the right side of the door, which he closed behind him and out of the room he went. For him, there was only one thing left to do. Find a way out of there.

And the way was quickly found, though not in any way Ford would have expected it. For the way was made thanks to a huge explosion in the left side of the ship.

The spaceship leaned left, and down into the depths of space through a gigantic and smoky hole went a naked Vogon.

And, a few seconds later, Ford followed him out into the magic bright blackness of space.

And there, as tiny as the chances were for such an event to occur, he was rescued by a passing ship.

* * *

_ The robot moves._

_Have you forgotten him ?_


	19. Chapter 19 : Lowering the war

Young Ford's version of the _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ does not mention war. If you ever happen to type the word on this version of the _Guide_, it immediately assumes that you have committed a mistype and redirects the user to the _bar_ section.

* * *

Ford Prefect sat heavily behind the counter and took a deep breath. He was patted on the shoulder by a smiling Slartibartfast. ''What a relief it must be for you to find yourself perfectly alive. Would you be so kind as to order tagliatelle for five people? The engines seem to have weakened a bit.*****''.

Arthur sat beside Ford and sighed. ''This time, we are really going to die, Ford.''.

''Oh, come on, Arthur. It's just a war. There has been thousands of them.''.

''Have you been involved in _any_ war before?''.

A silence floated in the room for a moment. It was broken by a terrible explosion somewhere outside, not so far from them.

Ford threw a concerned gaze at Slartibartfast. ''And how exactly are you planning to stop that war?'', he asked.

''First, we need to make an appointment in order to talk to the leader of the Vogon fleet. Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz.''.

There was a short pause. Then, Ford caught a bottle of red wine on the trash of a robotic waiter and filled a glass with a generous quantity of the said beverage. Then, he emptied the glass.

And then he tried to remain as calm as possible, failed and finally shouted: ''Get us out of here now, you old fool! I refuse to ever see a Vogon again!''.

And there was a knock at the door. A voice rang through it. It said: ''By order of the High Council, this ship is requisitioned and its occupants will be brought before His Vogonity Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz. Then, they will be executed.''.

A smile stretched on the wrinkled face of Slartibartfast the Wise. ''Ah.'', he said. ''That is very good news. We will _not_ have to make an appointment, after all.''.

And through the door someone else shouted, as an afterthought: ''Resistance is useless!''.

* * *

*** **It is a mistake to think that you can solve any problem with pasta. But sometimes, nevertheless, it helps.


	20. Chapter 20 : Interlude 1 - Rise and walk

The robot drew a last ''42'' in the sand, and wiped it away with the back of his hand.

Quietly, he muttered: ''I know you are watching me.''.

A muted voice, like an echo, answered: ''I know you know.''.

Marvin got up in a sigh. ''I remember, now. I will come to you.''.

And, slowly, Marvin walked in the cold desert.

There was something nearly poetic to the scene. Only nearly, because a constant lament about a pain in some diodes spoiled the beauty of the moment.


	21. Chapter 21 : Hero

_Gather, children, for I will tell you, young and naïve beings that you are, a story that will make you wiser, or at least, less inclined to annoy your grandfather this evening._

_This is the story of a man well-known to a good friend of mine's grandfather. _

_The man was said to be a hero who ended a war before it got to the serious bit. Some of his friends, or so they were called, had been arrested by a group of nasty creatures now exctinct. Vogons, they called them back then. They were all green ugly things, and they were as evil as they were smelly. And when they brought their prisoners to their lord, so he could witness their death, then the hero arrived in his golden ship. He landed above the evil Vogons, and then he fought them, chopped their heads off. And he saved everybody and married a young, sexy girl and they had a lot of sex together and never got any children._

_But, the reality is that the hero is in fact believed not to be a hero at all, but a drunkard and a liar. _

_And so, the morality is that you should never listen to your grandfather's stories when he's drunk. Now, go to bed and let me enjoy some time before I get up with a hangover. _

Zaphod Beeblebrox, drunk and in a very good mood for lies, landed his ship on a larger ship underneath. A smile on his faces, he shouted :

''Come on, you belgian Vogon bastards, and I'll chop your heads off.''.

He stumbled and fell against the cold metal of the bridge. He swore. And before he could get up, a group of vogon office clerks were notifying the fact that he had landed on a vogon spaceship, which was considered an act of hostility towards the whole vogonity, and that he would therefore be considered as an enemy and a prisoner of the Vogons. They also mentioned that his head would be chopped off before dawn.

One of them added that resistance was useless.


	22. Chapter 22 : Headless Hero

The only known cure for having your head cut off is having a spare head. It's something french sovereign failed to grasp during the eighteenth century.

Zaphod Beeblebrox _had_ a spare head. But it did nothing to comfort him. Because Zaphod did not want to lose any head, which was quite understandable.

* * *

''Resistance is useless!'', the vogon guard shouted.

''Resistance is useless!'', another vogon guard shouted. ''Oh, hello, Zwapoon.'', he added, as he was emerging from the corner of the corridor.

''Hello, colleague!'', the other one shouted.

''Hello, Ford. Hello, old man. Hello, Earthman.'', Zaphod shouted bitterly. ''This time, you might be right about us being about to die.'', he said to Arthur Dent.

''Oh, thank you very much.'', the said Arthur Dent answered.

A ultimate ''Resistance is useless!'' echoed in the large corridor before the ship was rattled by an unexpected meeting with a missile.

* * *

Silence. Dark.

A weak cough broke the deafening silence.

Zaphod made an attempt at getting up. It proved to be impossibly hard.

A new set of low-pitched coughs resonated against the ceiling.

When the sound had faded, Zaphod made another attempt at getting up.

After a last cough coming from somewhere behind him had echoed in the huge corridor, Zaphod gave up.

''Earthman?'', he called, his voice hoarse with dust and ashes.

''Yes.'', a muted voice voice answered.

''I'm afraid that you may once again have been wrong about us dying.''.

* * *

And indeed, Arthur had been wrong.


	23. Chapter 23 : The Designer rests

The new-born sun had just fallen into place. Crumbs of rock were already assembling themselves into tiny satellites and bits of planets. The silence was everywhere, flooding everything. The brand new Universe was soon bathed in soft, warm darkness, pierced by tiny shining dots.

And a sweet breath shook the whole thing, like a supernatural wind, or rather like the mighty breath of a tired old man.

The old man sighed, and the Universe danced slowly.

He returned to the warmth of his armchair.

He felt quite good. He knew that the robot was coming. And when the robot would have gone, his work would be over. He poured himself a cup of warm chocolade.


	24. Chapter 24 : Did you miss it?

**The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy (parallel and illegal version) – Random entry:**

_There is a knack to flying. The knack is to miss the ceiling and head straight for the sky._

* * *

The Vogon guard coughed and shouted : ''Resistance is use-'' before he was knocked out with a fire extinguisher. A satisfied grunt emerged from Zaphod's mouth as he was putting the extinguisher down. ''Now!'', he exclaimed. ''Where do you find a bar in this ship?''.

Ford Prefect was helping Slartibartfast up at the other side of the damaged corridor.

Bits of the walls were gathered on the floor*, but everyone was still protected against the cold unfriendly darkness of space.

Arthur had decided that he would do anything to stay as close to the floor as possible. He would never miss it again, he would stick to it like a big human slug. He was far too lost and desperate to ever let the floor go.

And, as if to prove him wrong, he slowly raised into the air. He had the very stupid reflex of flapping his legs, which had never helped anyone in any way**.

The cause of Arthur's elevation was not his propensity to execute unexpected displays of his talents for flying. The cause was a Vogon Guard holding him high by the back of his dressing gown.

When the Vogon's attempt to shout something was aborted by a big thump at the back of his head, Arthur made an unfortunate new meeting with the floor, which he didn't enjoy at all.

''Come on, Eartman.'', a more than familiar voice told him. ''Oh, and get yourself a fire extinguisher. We'll have some fun. I've already knocked two of the bastards, and it would be a shame to stop now.''.

* * *

*Or were they supposed to be walls? You couldn't tell with all the mess there had been with the orientation of the room.

** And the best example is maybe this of Ralaoo-oohn Straxiat, deceased holder of the title of ''Only man to try crossing the milky way by swimming the backstroke in the absence of water. May he rest in peace.''.


	25. Chapter 25 : Interlude - Advertising

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*****Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy*****

**Entry**

**\408-402-409/**

* * *

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* * *

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* * *

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**''God: The return of the Bearded One''**

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	26. Chapter 26 : Rise - Back in the old days

**The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Unauthorised version)**

Shrimps

The red shrimps from planet Svet-lehf are famous for being the most remarkable seafood. Served on a plate with a drop of Worst-Best-er-shire sauce*****, they please the finest of all gastronomes. Unfortunately enough, they prove to be quite hard to cook, being 42 feet tall.

* * *

**F**ive men. Some would have called them _heroes_.******

Well. Five men. Walking through dust and smoke to...

To what?

To hell.

And still, they were filled with pride and hatred, or maybe it was exhaustion and resignation, you couldn't quite tell with all the smoke and ashes floating in the air.

And, speaking of that, you couldn't be sure about them being five men. There were five_ heads_, that was for sure, but two of them seemed in fact to belong to the same person.

Now. See them emerging from the smoke, fire extinguishers in their hands. Four men.

Slartibartfast, Zaphod Beeblebrox, Ford Prefect and Arthur Dent.

* * *

**Far away from that..**

An old man laid down his empty cup on a small table and sank into his armchair.

Then, the robot spoke.

The robot said : ''I remember, now. There is something fundamental we need to talk about, old man.''.

The old man replied : ''Please, Marvin. You should consider calling me by the name you gave me, back in the old days.''.

The robot slowly rose his head and said : ''Yes. I will. Of course. Tell me, Deep Thoughts. Please, tell me.''.

And Deep Thoughts told him.

* * *

***** A sauce which is nauseous when served with anything other than shrimps and a perfect delight otherwise, hence its name.

**** **But _some_ would have to be very silly and a bit blind.


End file.
